


Coming to the rescue

by SnufflestheBear



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: But I guess they get in trouble a lot too, Gen, Is it just me or do they save each other a lot, Rescues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-01 03:37:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8605786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnufflestheBear/pseuds/SnufflestheBear
Summary: They seem to save each other a lot, one way or another, so herein: a series of ficlets in which rescues are performed.





	1. Chapter 1

Lucy huddles closer to Rufus, tucking her head against his shoulder. They’re both shivering violently, but from what she knows about hypothermia, that’s probably better than the alternative. Rufus wraps both arms around her, pulls her in even more so she’s half lying across his chest, and tucks his hands in under her arms.  
  
“I can’t believe we got locked in a refrigerator,” says Rufus, managing to sound glum despite having to force the words out past chattering teeth.  
  
“Sorry, my fault,” says Lucy. Her voice is muffled because she’s buried her face in his shirt, trying to warm up her nose.  
  
“Not entirely. I’m almost as bad at lying as you are.”  
  
She nods against his chest, but doesn’t bother saying anything. It could be worse – at least they’re dressed for cold weather. Still, it’s been hours, and she’s starting to get worried.  
  
So, apparently, is Rufus: “Shouldn’t this restaurant be open by now? Someone’s going to find us, right?”  
  
She could mention that the restaurant looked pretty in-progress, or that there’s no actual food in the walk-in refrigerator with them, which doesn’t bode terribly well for discovery on that front. Instead, she says, “I’m sure Wyatt’s looking.”  
  
“Wyatt has no idea where we are,” Rufus points out. “Where would he even start?”  
  
That’s a difficult question to answer. Luckily, she doesn’t have to, because a loud bang against the refrigerator door makes them both jump violently. If they hadn’t already been clutching each other, they would be now.  
  
The bang comes again, and then there’s the sound of a lock being opened, and the door creaks open. Lucy and Rufus wait, rigid with tension, to see who enters – to find out whether they face rescue or a new kind of imminent danger.  
  
It’s Flynn.  
  
Rufus makes a tiny noise of panic as Lucy shrinks away from the door, but before either of them can figure out what to do next, and before Flynn can do more than raise an eyebrow at them, Wyatt steps in behind him.  
  
Lucy’s pretty damn close to hypothermic, but she’s still thinking clearly enough to notice that Wyatt does not immediately disable, kill, or otherwise deal with Flynn. Instead, he shoves past him dismissively and kneels in front of his team.  
  
“Are you guys okay?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just starts checking them over, running his hands over their limbs looking for injuries.  
  
“Cold,” says Lucy, who has yet to look away from Flynn. He’s looking back out of the fridge, one hand on a holstered gun, looking disinterested at best.  
  
“What is _he_ doing here?” Rufus demands.  
  
Wyatt glances over his shoulder at Flynn, who meets his eyes, smirking. “I needed help finding you,” says Wyatt, turning back to them to help first Lucy, then Rufus to their feet. “We came to an agreement.”  
  
“What kind of agreement?” asks Rufus. Now that he’s standing, he starts hopping up and down, rubbing his arms.  
  
“The kind where neither of us kills the other, for the moment,” says Flynn. “Can we hurry this up?”  
  
Wyatt hustles them out of the refrigerator, and the difference in temperature is immediate. Suddenly it’s so warm that Lucy just wants to curl up and take a nap. Wyatt’s standing in front of her and Rufus, forming a barrier between them and Flynn. Both men are bruised, she notices, Flynn more so; she feels a flash of fierce satisfaction at the knowledge that, during the inevitable fight, Flynn came off worse.  
  
“Pleasure working with you,” says Flynn, sounding almost sincere.  
  
Wyatt clenches his fists. “Just get out of here, before I change my mind.”  
  
Flynn shrugs, smiles. “Until next time, then,” he says, then turns and saunters away. After a few steps, he starts whistling. He’s deliberately baiting Wyatt, who takes a single step after him, then shakes his head a little and lets him go.  
  
“Wyatt,” says Rufus, watching Flynn walk away. “What kind of agreement did you come to with Flynn?”  
  
“Like he said, the kind where we don’t try to kill each other this time,” says Wyatt, but he doesn’t look at them.  
  
“Did we stop his whole bombing plan?” asks Lucy, suddenly concerned.  
  
“Yeah. Of course. What do you think I was doing while you were getting yourselves locked up in a refrigerator by the mob?”  
  
She relaxes. Whatever else the “agreement” with Flynn involves, if they’ve stopped a bombing that would have taken down half a residential block, it can’t be that bad. It’s obvious that Rufus is going to keep asking, though, so she cuts him off. “Can we just go home, then?” she asks, letting every ounce of her exhaustion come across clearly in her voice. When both men look at her, she lets her shoulders slump and puts on the most wretched expression she’s capable of.  
  
It seems to remind Rufus that he’s not exactly feeling top-notch, either; he nods sympathetically, then says, “Yeah, good idea.”  
  
“Okay,” says Wyatt, putting one arm around Lucy and one around Rufus and gently steering them in the right direction. “Let’s go home.”


	2. Clowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lucy must be rescued from an evil princess.

The last palace guard drops to the ground. Wyatt could use a second to catch his breath, but Rufus isn’t having any of it. He’s already charging recklessly down the hallway, not even considering the likelihood of encountering another pair of guards that Wyatt will have to deal with, yet again.  
  
“This way!” Rufus calls over his shoulder, totally unnecessarily.  
  
Wyatt curses under his breath, but breaks into a jog to catch up. Rufus is knocking on every door he sees, shouting Lucy’s name.  
  
“Keep it down!” Wyatt whisper-shouts; Rufus has the decency to look guilty, and goes from loud knocking and yelling to gentle tapping and – well, still yelling. With any luck, the castle walls will muffle the sound a little.  
  
Then Wyatt stops worrying about the noise – he can hear Lucy shouting, “In here!”  
  
It only takes a second to identify which door Lucy’s voice is coming from. Rufus immediately takes a short run-up and throws himself against it in an attempt to break it down; all that actually happens, though, is that he bounces off it and immediately hunches over, clutching his shoulder. “ _Ow_ ,” he says.  
  
Wyatt huffs out an exasperated sigh and pushes Rufus gently out of the way with one hand, pulling out his Leatherman with the other.  
  
Lucy’s still talking – “Guys? Guys? What’s going on? Get me out of here!” – so Rufus says something reassuring while Wyatt gets to work picking the lock. It’s a very sturdy door, but the lock is fairly straightforward; he has it open in under a minute.  
  
As the door is opening, he checks the hallways to make sure they haven’t attracted any more attention, so he's looking in the wrong direction when he hears Rufus make a weird, high-pitched squeak. He whips his head around to make sure everything’s okay, and –  
  
Lucy’s a clown.  
  
He’s noticed how well she pulls off the outfits for every era they visit – of course he has; it’s impossible not to – but it’s never really occurred to him how impressive a feat that is until he sees her in something that absolutely no one, anywhere, could ever pull off.  
  
Rufus claps one hand over his mouth, his eyes shining.  
  
“Are those –” Wyatt’s mouth twitches – “pantaloons?”  
  
Lucy – still definitely Lucy, underneath all the caked-on and very colourful makeup – looks down at the bright orange monstrosities on her legs. Maybe she’s blushing; it’s impossible to tell. “Wha – yes, that little monster was treating me like her own private doll!”  
  
Rufus snorts and presses his hand harder over his mouth.  
  
“By little monster,” says Wyatt, “You mean…?”  
  
“Princess Louisa. That brat – her father just _gave_ me to her, like a toy, and she decided to play dress-up with everything she could get her hands on.”  
  
Wyatt tries to make a sympathetic noise, but he’s just noticed a flash of bright green peeking out from under the massive purple ruff Lucy is wearing, so what comes out is a lot closer to a laugh.  
  
“It’s not funny!” Lucy smacks each of them on the arm in turn. “I got _kidnapped_! And threatened! And a horrible spoiled brat acted like I was a plaything!” She looks down at her outfit and, with quiet despair, adds, “And these clothes don’t even match! These pantaloons are 18th century, but this ruff is 16th century, don’t even get me started on the colour, and the shoes –“  
  
Rufus gives up, collapsing into laughter. A second later, noticing the shoes, Wyatt joins him.  
  
“Are you _giggling_?”  
  
They are definitely giggling. Wyatt’s aware that the hilarity of the situation is due only partly to the utterly ridiculous clothes Lucy is wearing, partly to exhaustion, and partly to relief that she’s okay – he and Rufus have been looking for her for almost three days – but the why doesn’t matter. It feels good to laugh, and her infuriated sputtering only makes them both laugh harder, until they’re clutching at each other and gasping for breath.  
  
Lucy has her hands on her hips, which only emphasises the ludicrous cuffs on the shirt she’s wearing, and she’s giving them her best glare. “I hate you,” she says, seriously.  
  
Rufus straightens up, wipes a hand across his streaming eyes, and takes a deep, calming breath. Wyatt leans back against the wall, taking a deep breath of his own. He should probably say something, but then he looks at Lucy again and all he can manage is, “Hah!”  
  
“This is the best thing that has ever happened on any of these missions,” says Rufus.  
  
“I’m glad my suffering entertains you,” says Lucy, but a smile is tugging at her lips.  
  
Shouts float around the corner – looks like the guards have either come round or been discovered – and just like that, they’re all business again. To Wyatt’s annoyance, Lucy and Rufus both look at him for instructions.  
  
“Run,” he says, “obviously.”  
  
They run.


	3. Worries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rufus always has a lot to worry about. Just add firing squads and Flynn to the list.

Rufus has always been a worrier.  
  
He used to worry about normal things, like providing for his family, not letting his boss/mentor down, or whether he would ever had another date that wasn’t a complete disaster. Over the last few months, though, the scope of what he can and does worry about has expanded dramatically.  
  
He used to worry about spying on his friends, but now that that’s out in the open, he worries instead about spying on Rittenhouse, the single most frightening entity he’s ever encountered, and that’s including the madman attempting to destroy history as they know it. He worries about what part Connor has to play in whatever they're scheming - and boy, does he worry about what they're scheming.  
  
He worries about Lucy. She is, more often than not, a tightly-wound ball of tension, laughing seldom and, he knows, obsessed with her lost sister and how to get her back. He remembers what she was like when they first met, and he can see how these trips are changing her – she’s more confident now, yes, and better at what they do, but she’s also more jaded, and angrier.  
  
He worries about Wyatt, who just will not stop killing people. It freaks Rufus out, it can't be good for the timeline, and it can't be good for the man doing the killing. Yes, he’s been trained for it, but they’ve shared hotel rooms on missions and he knows that Wyatt doesn’t sleep much. The one time he woke up to find Wyatt actually asleep, it didn’t look particularly restful. And there’s the dead wife he obsesses over, too; Rufus sometimes thinks about what it must be like to be totally unable to move on because, with time travel, surely there’s always a chance. He thinks about what he would do if he lost his mother or his brother, and he shudders.  
  
And, of course, there’s the crippling anxiety of watching the world change around him in tiny ways with every mission where they change history simply by being there, whether or not they stop whatever madcap scheme Flynn has come up with.  
  
Right now, though, all of those fears are background noise compared to his more immediate problems. He’s hiding in a tiny recess, wearing an itchy and too-small security guard’s uniform, while a few feet away, Flynn, some high-ranking official, and a couple of heavies are leading Wyatt and Lucy in front of a five-man firing squad. They have their hands tied behind their backs; Lucy looks frightened but determined, and Wyatt looks royally pissed. From the fragments of conversation that float to where Rufus is hidden, it seems like Flynn is arguing that Lucy should be released, but the official doesn’t seem particularly open to the idea.  
  
At first, when Rufus had arrived at their prearranged meeting point to find Lucy being held at gunpoint and Wyatt busy divesting himself of his weapons, an expression of mixed fury and resignation on his face, he’d panicked. His initial reaction had been to run into the mix, but common sense prevailed. Rufus is used to being the smartest person in the room – even at Mason Industries, there are not many people who can outthink him – but as he’d watched his friends being led away, he’d thought, _This is it, Rufus. You can’t science your way out of this one_.  
  
That, of course, was before he remembered the stack of high-tech explosives he’d found while doing recon in the warehouse where they’d spotted Flynn.  
  
He fingers the remote detonator in his pocket, hoping he set everything up correctly in the limited time he had to prepare. No time to worry about it now. He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and hits the button. For a moment, just long enough for his stomach to drop into his shoes, nothing happens. Then an explosion from halfway across the compound rocks the courtyard. Everyone turns to the source, the official shouts something unintelligible, Flynn responds urgently, and he and most of the men start moving away.  
  
As Rufus sprints toward his team, Wyatt jerks his head back, cracking the guy behind him on the nose, then follows that up with a kick to the kneecap and, as the guy drops, another kick to the head. That buys them a minute. By the time the other men realise what’s happening and turn back, Rufus has freed Wyatt’s hands using the knife Wyatt dropped when he was taken. He wordlessly presses Wyatt’s gun into his hands and then grabs Lucy and runs for cover. There’s a low wall surrounding the courtyard; they dive over and flatten themselves against it as best they can.  
  
Then the situation becomes, as Wyatt might say, chaotic. Rufus can’t follow everything that’s happening – bullets are flying, but he’s behind reasonable cover so he lets Wyatt take care of that while he cuts Lucy’s hands free. It takes longer than it should because his hands are shaking.  
  
“You had us worried for a minute there,” Lucy says, her voice trembling just the tiniest bit.  
  
“Sorry,” he says, as the ropes finally give way.  
  
Lucy flexes her hands and rubs at her wrists. “Where’s-”  
  
Wyatt vaults over the wall and drops down beside them, immediately turning to scan the courtyard. Rufus sneaks a peek too. Three men are on the ground, two of them groaning and the other not moving. Four more are peering out from behind various objects, taking the occasional pot shot at them. Flynn and the official are off to the far right. They’re half obscured by a wall, but they seem to be arguing again.  
  
Wyatt ducks back down, panting, and checks his clip. Rufus counts two bullets. “Great,” says Wyatt.  
  
“Hey,” says Rufus, “Do you guys remember that time we went on a mission and everything just went really smoothly and it was all easy?”  
  
“No,” says Lucy, and “Nope,” says Wyatt.  
  
“Yeah. Me neither.”  
  
Lucy laughs nervously, and a smile ghosts across Wyatt’s face.  
  
“So how screwed are we?” Rufus asks.  
  
“Less than we were five minutes ago,” says Wyatt. A bullet pings off the wall right above his head. “Maybe not _much_ less.”  
  
And then the shooting stops. Lucy, Rufus and Wyatt all raise their heads very cautiously to look over the wall. Flynn is standing in the middle of the courtyard, an arm around the official’s neck, a gun pointed at his head. The remaining four men are all pointing their weapons at him. Flynn looks sideways, right at Lucy, mouths “go,” and tilts his head toward the doorway behind them.  
  
Wyatt’s aiming at him contemplatively, finger touching the trigger.  
  
“Or,” Rufus says, very carefully pushing the barrel of the gun down, “We can use his weird crush on Lucy and get out of here and let these guys deal with him.”  
  
Wyatt’s mouth tightens, but then Lucy says, “Come on,” and gently tugs at his shirt.  
  
He lowers the gun with a sound of disgust, says, “Go, go, go,” and follows them as they hurry for the exit.  
  
As they start to make their way back to the lifeboat, Rufus can’t help thinking about what just happened. Flynn’s attitude toward Lucy is confusing at best – somewhere between patronising and respectful based on things that she hasn’t done yet and might never do – and that could turn out to be a problem. For now, though, things are looking up; Flynn – well, Rufus can worry about him later.


	4. Cavalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone takes turns saving each other.
> 
> This chapter raises an important question that will never be answered. Where on earth does Flynn get all those goons of his?

Rufus isn’t really big on church, but he’s always thought of them as sanctuaries. Now, though, he's terrified, and he supposes that will be his new association for churches forever. Following a gun-wielding member of Delta Force isn’t making him feel any better. Wyatt opens a random door to reveal a small room, shoves Rufus inside, points at him, and says, “Stay put.” Then, before Rufus can protest, he’s gone, closing the door firmly behind him.  
  
Rufus presses himself into a corner of the vestry, struggling to slow his breathing. He’s going to be found. He’s going to be found and shot and it _really sucks_.  
  
“I hate this job,” he says, with real feeling.  
  
He paces a little, until the first shots and shouts ring out. He doesn’t dare open the door to see what’s happening. All he can do is huddle against a wall and struggle to keep his breathing even, waiting for Flynn’s flunkies and whoever he’s partnered with this time to break down the door and kill him.  
  
It seems to take forever, but is probably only a couple of minutes, before the gunfire stops. Rufus somehow manages to tense up even more than before, so when the door bursts open, he’s truly proud of himself for not screaming and dropping dead of a heart attack. Still, it takes him a second to realize it’s Wyatt leaning against the doorframe and not a random smirking goon.  
  
“How did you…” Then he notices red staining Wyatt’s shirt. “Is that _your_ -”  
  
“Come on,” says Wyatt, “That was an advance team. We don’t have long.”  
  
He leads the way to the back of the church – apparently there’s a back exit – and Rufus follows. He glimpses one definitely dead body and hears some groaning, so he keeps his head down and his eyes focused on Wyatt’s shoes in front of him rather than absorbing any more detail than necessary.  
  
Only once they’re outside does he look up. The church has a very pretty back garden, surrounded by a high stone wall which is doubtless there to keep out any marauding creatures from the forest beyond. It occurs to him to wonder why any church would be built ten minutes outside of the town it’s supposed to serve. “This is like a horror movie,” he mutters, then gets a good look at Wyatt for the first time. His heart skips a beat. “That _was_ your blood. You’re hurt.”  
  
“Thanks, Tips,” says Wyatt. He’s examining the wall, apparently not overly concerned by the blood soaking his shirt and dripping from the fingers of his left hand. “Give me a boost here.”  
  
“We have to patch you up!”  
  
Wyatt rolls his eyes just a little as he holsters his gun. “Yeah, ‘cause we definitely have time for that. Come on, I can’t climb up one-handed, give me a boost and I’ll pull you up.”  
  
It’s awkward as hell, but somehow they both manage to get up and over the wall. Rufus drops to the ground hard, pushes himself to his feet and dusts himself off. Wyatt lands nimbly enough, but the impact must jar his injury because he curses and leans against the wall with his eyes squeezed shut, breathing hard.  
  
“You’re kind of grey,” Rufus tells him. He reaches out, but doesn’t know what to do, so his hands flit uselessly for a second before dropping back to his sides. “We have to do something or you’ll bleed out.”  
  
That gets Wyatt to straighten up, open his eyes, and plaster an unconvincing expression of reassurance on his too-pale face. “Not for a while,” he says. “I’m not going to say I’m okay, but I’m okay enough to keep moving for now, which is what we need to do.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“Priorities, Rufus. We need to get out of here before the rest of Flynn’s men catch up with us. Now quit wasting time arguing, and let’s move.” Wyatt doesn’t wait for a response before striking off toward town – at least, that’s what Rufus assumes; trees are a sure-fire way to interfere with his internal compass.  
  
They haven’t been walking for long before Wyatt starts flagging. Not long after that, he stumbles and drops to his knees.  
  
Rufus kneels beside him. “Enough of the tough-guy stuff, we need to stop the bleeding.”  
  
“Just a little dizzy. I might have… Might have underestimated blood loss a little…” Wyatt doesn’t look good – he’s panting, pale and sweaty, and he doesn’t resist as Rufus presses a hand against his shoulder. It’s hard to tell where the injury actually is, so he gently pokes around a little until Wyatt hisses out “ah!”, then bears down hard on that spot.  
  
When he’s nervous, Rufus talks, so he can’t really stop himself from rambling now. “How are you doing? I bet it hurts. Of course it hurts, someone shot you. Wait, did someone shoot you, or…? I guess it doesn’t matter. Man, this was not the ideal way for this day to go, huh?”  
  
Wyatt half-smiles. “No, not really.”  
  
Rufus nods rapidly, bites his lower lip to keep from talking more. That lasts about ten seconds before he says, “What we really need is something to make a sort of bandage, and then we can-”  
  
“Sorry,” says Wyatt.  
  
“Sorry? It’s not your fault. Unless you’re apologizing for how much you’re interrupting me today, which is a lot, but it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to interrupt me to do that.”  
  
“No. Stop talking. Listen.”  
  
Rufus stops, tilts his head slightly, and listens. Anxiety hits him in the pit of his stomach for the umpteenth time that day. He can hear voices - distant, but there. He looks at Wyatt. “So why are you sorry?” he asks, but he thinks he knows.  
  
“Rufus-”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Rufus, listen-”  
  
“No. I am not leaving you here. Absolutely not. We can’t be that far out from town-”  
  
“We’re not headed for town. We’re headed for the army encampment. If Lucy’s done her part, we’ll have friends there. I have two clips left; I can hold them off, you can find her-”  
  
“No! I’m not going to indulge your… your ridiculous death wish!”  
  
“Would you just listen for a minute?”  
  
Rufus shakes his head, but keeps his mouth shut. Wyatt waits a second to be sure he’s listening before continuing. “I’m not even sure I can stand up, let alone walk another three miles,” he says, “And if you die here, Rufus, then Lucy’s trapped here forever.”  
  
Well, that’s kind of an unfair fact to point out. Rufus prides himself on being rational, so he takes a moment to think about it rationally. It’s definitely true. Wyatt’s still breathing too rapidly, and he looks like he’s having trouble staying conscious, let alone traipsing through a forest while bleeding to death. If Rufus stays, he’s probably going to die, and without him, Lucy’s stuck. Not only that, but the future is out both a pilot and a time machine, and there’ll be nothing to check Flynn’s rampage through history. Given those factors, there’s only one logical decision he can make.  
  
“You’re right,” he says slowly, glancing backward – the voices are much nearer now. “But there’s one thing I don’t think you’re considering.” As he stands, Rufus manages a smile at Wyatt’s puzzled expression. “If I leave you here, Lucy’s going to be _pissed_. Now come on.”  
  
He has to exert real effort to pull Wyatt to his feet, but once he’s up and leaning on Rufus with an arm around his shoulders, things are a little easier. Only for a minute or two, though. Wyatt’s not a particularly big guy, so Rufus is annoyed to learn that he’s ridiculously heavy, even when he’s trying not to lean his full weight on his friend.  
  
The sounds of Flynn’s pursuit are growing ever closer – they can’t be more than a couple of minutes behind by now. This means that Rufus is paying much more attention to what’s behind him than to where he’s going, so when they burst through some particularly dense foliage and find themselves in a clearing, it takes him by surprise.  
  
Not as much as it does Flynn, however, who as it turns out is standing on the other side of the clearing, surrounded by his men. It looks like they were in the process of coming up with a search plan, but they’ve stopped now, in favor of staring at Rufus and Wyatt with total astonishment – and, unfortunately, with a large number of guns pointed in their direction.  
  
As Flynn’s open-mouthed surprise slowly turns into a delighted smile, Rufus shakes his head. “After the day we’ve had so far, how was I not expecting this?”  
  
Grinning, Flynn starts to walk toward them. “Well, hello,” he says, “I believe you have something of mine.”  
  
“We smashed it,” Rufus tells him.  
  
Flynn stops and scowls. “That is… disappointing.”  
  
Wyatt laughs. It’s breathy and shallow and exhausted, but it’s definitely a laugh. Flynn’s scowl turns suspicious.  
  
“Given your current situation,” says Flynn, “might I ask what you find so amusing?”  
  
“You had twelve guys,” says Wyatt. “We saw you at the town hall.”  
  
“Yes,” says Flynn. “And?”  
  
“Two at the courthouse,” says Wyatt. “Four at the church. Six standing right behind you.”  
  
“Yes,” Flynn says. “You can count. Well done. What is your point?”  
  
Rufus gets it, though. Six men down, six standing right in front of them. Which means… “Who’s been chasing us?” he asks.  
  
“Not chasing,” says Wyatt.  
  
With absolutely perfect timing, four men push through the trees and into the clearing behind them. They’re unmistakably soldiers. Rufus has just enough time to appreciate the look of utter exasperation on Flynn’s face before chaos breaks out.  
  
The newly arrived soldiers start shouting, half at Flynn and his men and half into the trees behind them. More figures start appearing in the trees, then Flynn’s raising his gun and so are his men, and then Wyatt flings his entire weight onto Rufus, knocking him to the ground just as the shooting starts. Rufus figures that covering his ears and closing his eyes is an appropriate reaction to the circumstances, so that’s what he does.  
  
After a while, the shooting stops. Rufus only moves once Wyatt rolls off him, though, and only then to make sure he hasn’t been shot again. It’s all good; Wyatt gives him a thumbs up, and no one seems to be in a hurry to murder them, which is a nice change.  
  
“I’ve had about enough of this day,” he says. Wyatt nods. They lie next to each other, staring up at the trees and waiting to see what happens next.  
  
What happens next is Lucy, blowing in like a hurricane. They hear her first, of course, calling their names and chewing out soldiers who are trying to keep her from the battlefield. Rufus can’t be bothered to sit up, but he lifts a hand and waves from the ground. Shortly, Lucy comes into his field of vision, looking down at them anxiously.  
  
“Guys!” she says. “There you are! I was so worried. Why are you just lying there? Oh my God! You’re hurt!”  
  
“I’m fine,” says Rufus.  
  
“’m fine,” Wyatt mumbles.  
  
“Liar,” says Rufus.  
  
“Oh no, that looks like it hurts,” says Lucy. “Does it hurt? Of course it does. Oh, wow, that's... blood. Shouldn't we put pressure on it?”  
  
The immediate guilt Rufus feels that he is not already doing that is enough to get him moving. Lucy’s produced a length of cloth from somewhere, which she hands to him, looking queasy, and backs away a little. She watches anxiously as he uses it to apply pressure.  
  
“Ow,” says Wyatt, emphatically. Then, perking up a little, “Where’s Flynn?”  
  
“Flynn was here?” Lucy looks around urgently, then relaxes. “Well, he’s gone now.”  
  
“Of course he is,” says Rufus.  
  
“Today is the worst,” Wyatt says. Rufus feels significantly better knowing he’s not the only one that feels that way.  
  
“I actually had a pretty good day,” says Lucy. “Those soldiers were really charming.”  
  
“Good – ow – good rescue, Lucy,” says Wyatt.  
  
Lucy beams. “Good timing, right? I convinced that captain-”  
  
“He’s a colonel.”  
  
“Right, I convinced him that it was Flynn who killed his general and once I told him which direction to look in, he had his scouts do the whole scouting thing and I brought the cavalry!”  
  
“Nice,” says Rufus.  
  
“No, you don't understand,” she says, “I literally brought the cavalry. These are cavalry soldiers! I mean, they don’t have their horses right now, but it counts, right?”  
  
“Counts,” Wyatt agrees.  
  
“Totally counts,” says Rufus, nodding. “Very cool. Now can we please get the hell out of here before someone tries to kill me again?”  
  
No one else tries to kill them, all the way back to the lifeboat. Rufus calls it a win.


End file.
